


i didn't intend to kiss you

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Black Sails
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Season 3, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: The camp is quiet.  Flint noticed it earlier, on the night that he thought would surely be his last.  There is a great relief in that: accepting your death. Knowing that you can finally put it all down, that you can let yourself rest. Not now, no more rest for the wicked. It is time for Captain Flint to lift up the scimitar of rebellion and live to raise the black another day.Tomorrow.





	i didn't intend to kiss you

**Author's Note:**

> So, this Tumblr prompt fill for 26. "I didn't intend to kiss you" that I got from Gemma took an unexpected tonal turn! This is probably why I should never ask for prompts. XD
> 
> This is set mid-season 3, i.e. the most Silverflinty season.
> 
> ***

The camp is quiet. Flint noticed it earlier, on the night that he thought would surely be his last. There is a great relief in that: accepting your death. Knowing that you can finally put it all down, that you can let yourself rest. Not now, no more rest for the wicked. It is time for Captain Flint to lift up the scimitar of rebellion and live to raise the black another day. 

Tomorrow.

Tonight, the camp is quiet. Their new allies had even given him a small hut. The rest of the men are sprawled out here and there, huddled together from distrust of their former captors or for simple companionship. So few of them are left.

Silver is asleep in his hut now too, exhausted and feverish, yet insisting to set sail with them the next day. Flint’s argument of “I need you to stay here to cement our alliance” was met with a scowl and then a small smile of gratitude. Silver sleeps like a man who has accepted death, Flint thinks, and his fingers twitch to reach out, to brush the stray curl off his quartermaster’s perspiring brow.

When he closes his eyes, he can see her very clearly again - Death. With her black crown and hollow eyes, her seamless mouth, and her hands that reach out towards you like a fan of brittle, charred bone. She reaches past him, and he throws his body onto the ground to shield her intended prey.

_Not him_.

When had he fallen asleep? The camp is still quiet, only now there is the sound of the ocean against his ear, as if someone had placed a conch up against his lobe, and in the perfect symmetry of the house of a former sea-creature, he can hear the sirens calling him. Except it isn’t the ocean at all, it’s Silver’s breath, softly tickling his ear. Silver’s arm is thrown across his chest too, and his forehead, still damp from the heat of fever, is pressed into Flint’s shoulder. 

He doesn’t even remember lying down. Only the quiet of the camp, the flickering of the fires lighting the bridged path over their heads. Cicadas and fireflies, his only companions in this poor vigil. He turns just enough to slip his arm underneath Silver’s head, cradling it. He brushes a clump of loose curls behind Silver’s ear.

“I didn’t intend for things to get this bad for you,” he whispers, his lips so close to that damp forehead that he can practically taste the rancid bitterness of the fevered sweat.

“I didn’t intend to kiss you,” Silver replies, his eyelids lifting as slowly as if they were flower petals awakening to the first touch of Aurora’s rosy fingers. His lashes too are dewy with moisture.

“What…?”

But Silver’s hand is already burning against his jaw.

“It just… happened,” Silver smiles and brings their lips closer. “I’m sorry, Captain,” he whispers into the nascent kiss, before Flint allows his mouth to seal over Silver’s lips, before Flint can stop himself from grabbing a handful of Silver’s shirt, fisting it against the lower back as he pulls him closer. Closer still. He can taste the salt of the ocean on Silver’s lips. Their tongues, that have worked so hard at times to jostle and hurt, now seek only to soothe and to tame. “You’ll come back for me,” Silver whispers. The question in the statement can also be tasted upon his lips.

_Always, always._

He cannot say those words, so he kisses Silver again. Gently now, gently. You must not frighten him by showing him how much you are willing to give. How much you’ve been wanting, needing to surrender.

Silver winces in pain and Flint tries to draw away, only to find long fingers clenched around his collar, so he cradles Silver in his arms and tries to push away all thoughts of the Maroons, of Vane, of the war that he will never stop fighting because the world will never stop fighting him.

“You’ll come back, Captain?”

Why should it matter to anyone if they ever saw him again? But there is a hidden part inside him that, Flint knows, if you allow a single ray of hope in, it will begin to mend again. It is the part of him that wants to love.

“Wait for me,” he whispers against Silver’s forehead. It is the only promise he can give.

“Always,” he hears in reply.


End file.
